


The two of us a perfect picture.

by mochiboom



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Post-High School, Yuushi's a doctor, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochiboom/pseuds/mochiboom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the morning they’ll bicker about what to have for dinner over coffee and eggs at their tiny kitchen table, and spend a good hour sulking at each other in silence. But for now, there is only the brush of eyelashes against skin and their pulses beating in time to each others’ where their wrists are pressed together under the duvet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The two of us a perfect picture.

For[ Jazz](http://www.lovelizlisa.tumblr.com) ♥

* * *

 

It was late when Yuushi finally made it home, just about managing to catch the last train; slipping in between the doors just as they closed. The train slowly emptied as it rattled into station after station. Yuushi leaned against the doors, bag clasped loosely in his arms and stared at the blurring lights as they rattled through Harajuku. By the time it screeched into Meguro Station it was almost 1am and the slight chill had developed into full-blown frost. Yuushi hurried out to the taxi rank, tossing his bag inside and relaying the directions back to his and Gakuto’s apartment.

 

He unlocked the door as quietly as he could; if Gakuto was asleep, he slept lightly and got unbelievably pissed off if Yuushi woke him up by slamming the door open. The apartment was pitch black when he eventually eased the door open; habit dictated his movements and he managed to toe off his shoes and hang up his coat without knocking the umbrella stand over.

 

The sliding door to their bedroom squeaked a little when he opened it and he froze, listening intently for the slightest bit of movement. When none came, he stepped inside and gently slid the door to. Gakuto, as always, had left the curtains slightly open; the watery light from the moon glanced across the curve of his cheek, his face turned away from Yuushi and caught in his hair. It made him look like he’s been sprinkled with snow.

 

He shucked off his work clothes and tossed them on the back of the chair, picking up his pyjamas from the floor by the laundry basket where he left them this morning. The old t shirt is soft against his skin, a present from Gakuto’s brother for Yuushi’s twenty-third birthday. Finally he removed his glasses, setting them on the floor beside the futon and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the ache that seemed bone-deep from all the frowning he’d been doing.

 

A light touch on his knee startled him out of his reverie, he looked down to see Gakuto staring sleepily up at him, eyes half-open in the dim light.

“Hey,” He murmured, rolling over and propping himself up on one elbow. The top he wears to bed gaped widely at the neck and he pushed his hair out of his face with the back of his hand. “When did you get in?” His voice was rough with sleep, his hair sticking up on one side where he’d been lying on it and Yuushi’s stomach dropped. He swallowed thickly and slid into bed, hovering over Gakuto and wrapped his hands around Gakuto’s bare wrists.

 

The duvet, (expensive; a house-warming present from Atobe) bunched up over his shoulders and Gakuto shivered as the cool air of their bedroom hit his skin.

“Oi, asshole.” He griped, breath hitching as Yuushi pressed his mouth to the fluttering pulse point on Gakuto’s neck. His mouth was warm and sleep-slack when Yuushi kissed him, and he whimpered tiny stunned noises into Yuushi’s mouth, eyes shut tight. Yuushi smirked, licking his lips and drawing away. Gakuto stared dazedly up at him, chest heaving and cheeks flushed, even in the half-light. He reached up a shaky hand and shoved at Yuushi’s shoulder. “Get off, you’re heavy.” He groused. Yuushi smirked, reaching out with one hand and rubbing his thumb over Gakuto’s lips before acquiescing, still keeping one of Gakuto’s hands loosely clasped in his.

 

“You’re such a fucking perve.” Gakuto muttered, slinging a leg over Yuushi’s hip and resting his head on Yuushi’s shoulder. In response, Yuushi slid a hand up the back of Gakuto’s t shirt, stroking over the sleep-warm skin at the small of his back and turning his face into Gakuto’s hair.

“You’re one to talk.” He chuckled, closing his eyes and relaxing back into the pillows.

 

Gakuto snorted absently, breath hot against Yuushi’s collar and curled the fingers of his free hand into Yuushi’s t shirt.

“Whatever.” he yawned and pressed his face into the curve of Yuushi’s neck. “’Night, asshole. Don’ grope me in my sleep.” He trailed off at the end, becoming heavier in Yuushi’s arms as he fell asleep again.

 

Yuushi pressed a kiss to the part in Gakuto’s hair, breathing in the scent of Gakuto’s grapefruit shampoo and their fabric conditioner. Outside the window, rain began to fall, turning the city lights outside into an oil painting and while their breathing fogged fleetingly in the air, neither of them noticed.

 

In the morning they’ll bicker about what to have for dinner over coffee and eggs at their tiny kitchen table, and spend a good hour sulking at each other in silence. But for now, there is only the brush of eyelashes against skin and their pulses beating in time to each others’ where their wrists are pressed together under the duvet. 


End file.
